


My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark

by DarthGarou



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Terrifying Tolkien Week, beware of singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 01:11:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12545476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthGarou/pseuds/DarthGarou
Summary: While being held captive in Nargothrond, Lúthien keeps getting visits from Celegorm.





	My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Title shamelessly taken from the Fall Out Boy song of the same name.  
> My entry for the fifth day of Terrifying Tolkien Week, the prompt being "beauty is terror."

Lúthien hums in her cell as she braids her hair, conjuring the sounds of rustling leaves and rushing streams to ease the loneliness of her captivity. The shadows sway to her wordless melody and she plays with them the same way she used to in Doriath.

Her mother was a stern teacher, but Lúthien remembers her lessons all the better for that.

The stone invites her voice in and carries it through Nargothrond, unnoticed by all but the sharpest of ear and mind. She can do little else as of now, caught between the exhaustion caused by her flight from Doriath and the intention to preserve as much of her strength as she can for helping Beren.

She leans on the wall and rests her head on it, fingers still tangled in her midnight hair. Through the stone, she catches the vibrations of someone’s steps moving steadily through Nargothrond and towards her.

They are the footsteps of a hunter, careful and measured and barely there, but in Lúthien’s opinion, he might as well be stomping.

Despite her situation, a smile creeps on Lúthien’s lips and the tone of her hum shifts to a more sinister one. She watches the shadows swirl, blur and come back into focus, slither along the walls where there should be none.

There is little she can do, as she needs to conserve her energy for the tasks to come - Melian has taught her enough about foresight and the fabric of reality, after all - but a little song will hardly deplete the swelling reservoir of her might.

The smile grows wider when she hears steps descending the stairs to the hallways behind the bars. Once the steps come to a halt a few feet behind her, she waits, weaving the shadows and Celegorm’s stray thoughts into her song. 

“Is there still no chance of you talking to me, I wonder?” 

Lúthien does not grace him with a reply. Her hum gurgles like a quick stream, rustles like dry leaves and even if Celegorm sees the shadows in her cell flutter and shift, he pays them no mind.

Which must be why he leans closer to the bars. “But what if I keep talking, O Lúthien of Doriath? Will there, perchance, come a point when you are sick enough of my voice to tell me?”

Unimpressed, Lúthien continues tending to her hair.

“You must have met one of my cousins, Finrod, when he was visiting your father’s court.” Tilting her head to better reach a stray lock of hair, Lúthien knows the gesture will serve to make Celegorm think she is listening to him. “He left this kingdom,  _ his _ kingdom, to help your mortal with his quest, and it only led him to his doom.”

Lúthien straightens her back and her shoulders tense. She can smell Celegorm’s confidence in the air, so she rests her hands in her lap and lets her will swell and dissipate through the hallway.

“I doubt your mortal is still alive, if Felagund has perished. If you wish, I could help you return to Doriath.” 

Expertly, she weaves a web about him when he is too absorbed in his apparent victory. Once her snares are in place, Lúthien whistles to call forth a gust of wind. Celegorm whips around and draws his sword.

The smile that settles on her lips can cut through Noldorin steel and with it on her lips, she turns to face Celegorm. Their eyes clash and Lúthien’s unrelenting stare bores into Celegorm with enough force to make him uncomfortable. 

Heaviness fills the air as Celegorm comes to realise that this time, the hunter is on the other side of the bars.

The sinister smile still on her radiant face, Lúthien takes a deep breath and begins to sing. Shadows begin to drip from the ceiling, staining Celegorm’s white hair with thick goo. Others slide off the walls and swell into the fullness of bodies. His eyes dart from one to the other, widening with every figure he sees gathering around him, and Lúthien wonders whether the similarity to a scared hare is coincidental or not.

She doesn’t know what phantoms she has called forth, but continues to beckon them closer. Celegorm’s face twists into a pained grimace and he begins to quiver, trying to free himself.

In retaliation, Lúthien sinks the fangs of her song even deeper into him and silences any thoughts he might have been trying to send out to reach help. To entertain herself, she draws out Celegorm’s thoughts of his dear brother and wills them to manifest.

The horror on his face makes her laugh. She moulds the echo of it to ring through his ears, hollering until he starts crumbling and falls to his knees. Lúthien watches him, a powerful hunter reduced to a trembling mess, and being moved to pity, she ceases her song.

Torchlight burns the shadows away and the smirk fades from her face.

She hears a new pair of feet descend the stairs, sharper and with less regard for subtlety. Celegorm must have heard it, too, as he gets on his feet hastily and runs a hand over his face to gather himself.

Lúthien’s expression is perfectly blank before Curufin comes to halt by his brother’s side.

“Do you have any reason to be here, brother?” he asks Celegorm, his voice cutting like steel and equally cold.

“My reasons are never enough for you, Curvo,” Celegorm laughs, but Lúthien can still feel the slight tremor in that sound. “I only tried to talk some sense into our guest here."

Curufin spares Lúthien a look, scoffing upon noticing her empty expression. Throwing a hand up in an exasperated gesture, he turns to leave. “You would do well to listen to me just once and save yourself another journey into the dungeons. She has made it perfectly clear that she is unwilling to cooperate.”

Humming in affirmation, Celegorm trails after his brother towards the stairs. 

When he turns to glance over his shoulder, Lúthien offers him a brilliant smile, places a finger on her lips and winks. She knows it makes Celegorm shudder. 


End file.
